Saturday, January 29, 2011

The farmer put a hand on Brandy and Brandy came right up to the barn. Too skinny. And too old. Bad combination. She is eleven or twelve or something like that, a very old bag. Poor Brandy, you might think.

Wrong again. Poor barn dwellers. Brandy went in a stall with Winnie and Joy. Winnie is her daughter but you wouldn't know it since Winnie is about twice her size. Joy is a mild-mannered crybaby who always fakes something or other so she can go to the barn. She was already recoiling in horror since she was in the stall with Winnie and Winnie was telling her a thing or two and what a surprise she burst out crybabying and then Brandy arrived.

Pretty soon Winnie was recoiling in horror and Joy was relaxing at the hay feeder cheerfully. Brandy doesn't bother Joy since Joy always kowtows but Winnie is kowtow-impaired so Brandy always sprays the fear on her. That's what it's called, spraying the fear.

Brandy could spray the fear across a high school auditorium, she is that good at it, but she can also pinpoint the fear like a laser beam and that's what she was doing, lasering the fear right into Winnie's eyeballs so that Winnie was frozen in the shape of a goat statue and didn't know which way to turn while Brandy ate all the grain in a leisurely fashion and nodded cordially at Joy, who curtseyed politely from across the stall.

If you saw it and you didn't know any better you would say what a pretty tableau. A kind old goat eating grain and a nice young doe munching hay and look in the middle, a statue of a wide-eyed goat frozen with one hoof in mid-air. How whimsical, just like a scene from Heidi.